


37th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [37]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, My Time At Portia (Video Game), Overwatch (Video Game), Shall We Date?: Obey Me!, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aftercare, Blackmail, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Come Inflation, Dehumanization, Feminization, Flirting, Hypnotism, M/M, Micropenis, Pining, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Somnophilia, Trans Male Character, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 Hawks/Endeavor | ch.2 McCree/Hanzo | ch.3 Lucifer/OC | ch.4 Lucifer/OC | ch.5 McCree/Reyes | ch.6 McCree/Reaper | ch.7 Bruce/Jason | ch.8 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.9 McCree/Hanzo; Hanzo/Dragons | ch.10 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.11 McCree/Hanzo | ch.12 Gust/Builder | ch. 13 Torbjörn/Soldier76
Relationships: Builder/Gust (My Time At Portia), Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Torbjörn Lindholm/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: Fic Batches [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 11
Kudos: 174





	1. Hawks/Endeavor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endeavor/Hawks – feminization; virgin kink; rape tw – Enji is a dumbass and Hawks thinks it is really hot.
> 
> (I do too. I hope there’ll be more entries detailing Endeavor getting slowly trained into a bimbo cockslut)
> 
> Sequel: B38F6

_Endeavor-san, you look so good in your new outfit!_

_Endeavor-san, you don’t pad out your chest, right?_

And then, just earlier today, the one that had him flush hot enough to make the water hitting his broad shoulders hiss and sizzle: _Woah, Endeavor-san. I think I could see your pussy just now. Your costume is so_ tight _, I love it._

Hawks’ lewd indecency knew no bounds, it seemed. Enji tries his hardest to tune the saucy little remarks out while out on missions and fighting villains, but Hawks’ insistency to be heard made it almost impossible to succeed.

Hawks doesn’t know shame. He thinks that whatever he is saying has to be heard, and he doesn’t care whether anybody around them can hear his lewd remarks about Enji’s body.

Enji doesn’t care as well, obviously. Except… he kind of does.

_I think I could see your pussy just now._

The words kept bouncing around his head. The shower is filled with more steam than water as he keeps losing a handle over his body temperature. He’s alone in his agency’s locker rooms after splitting up with Hawks. There’s no harm in seeing what the Hell the imbecile had been talking about.

He doesn’t have a… a _pussy._

Enji reaches back, thick fingers sliding along his ass crack. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against the cool shower tiles, trying to regulate his body heat into something more manageable, but when his fingertips slide against the pout of his hole, he loses the fight all over again.

He doesn’t have a pussy. It’s a hole just like any other man’s, of course. Not that he looks at them or anything. He is not a lewd embarrassment like the little punk he happens to team up with on the regular.

Instead of pulling away, though, he keeps his fingers back there; the tip of one slowly rounding the muscle. He gasps, shocked by how sensitive the area is. He doesn’t have a pussy. He doesn’t.

Using water to slick the way, he wriggles the broad tip of his finger into himself, trying to figure out how Hawks could have come up with as indecent an idea as he has, but-

“Oh wow, Endeavor-san! You shouldn’t have started without me!”

Enji’s insides lurch so hard in shock at the sudden impudent voice that he becomes instantly nauseous. His brain is blank; he has no idea what to say or do, though his body wants to instantly break out in vengeful flames – as it’s his usual response to things he doesn’t understand.

The water from the showers douses his flames before anything could even form. He’s getting grabbed and turned around, back slamming into the wall and head hitting the tiles painfully but not violently.

His face is pulled into a snarl; he knows he is splotchy red with his embarrassed flush.

Hawks stands in front of him, a good arm length away; it takes Enji’s stalling brain a little to figure out that what had grabbed and turned him around were in fact Hawks’ feathers. He is grinning at him broad and lazy, stance lax like it always is.

Not an ounce of respect for his elder.

“You know, it’s not nice to just play alone after all the hints I dropped.”

Enji blinks slowly, staring at him. He has no idea what he means by ‘playing’ or what ‘hints’ he has given. He slowly balls his hands into fists, and tries to rip free of the feathers, but they are impossibly strong, keeping his arms spread wide and giving him no leverage with which to pull away.

More feathers flit away from Hawks’ wings. They seem unhindered by the water coming down, slipping behind Enji’s knees. He’s known Hawks’ Quirk was strong… but he had never considered just how much weight the feathers could easily lift.

He feels his feet leave the ground as his legs are being bent up. His breath hitches, stomach growing cold when he is made to show himself off to the young man, legs being spread against his will.

“Hawks!” he barks, but it lacks its usual authority. Hawks’ grin widens just a little bit more. He comes closer, gait as loose and easy as usual despite him only wearing a towel. Enji can see the bulge in the front just a second before Hawks pulls it off and throws it to the wet floor. His cock is bouncing in front of him, hard and flushed dark red at the tip. Enji is _shocked_ to suddenly be confronted with an… an… _erection_.

“Yeah. You’re going to scream my name, Endeavor-san,” Hawks drawls, gold eyes eying how Enji is being bend in half by the feathers, his knees practically hitting the wall. “I didn’t know how flexible you were! Damn. You’re just the ideal cocksleeve, aren’t you?”

Enji’s mouth opens, then closes again. Hawks comes closer, his hand unselfconsciously touching between his cheeks. Enji can feel his eyes bulging when he is stuffed with one of Hawks’ fingers.

“Fuck, you’re tight. Look at that virgin pussy you got, Endeavor-san!”

Enji’s breath hitches. His toes curl where his feet hang in the air, his hole burning from the fat intrusion (Hawks’ slim little finger) yet all he can think about is that _word_ again!

“I don’t have…”

Hawks stares at him with what looks like incredulity. He then barks out a single laugh and wriggles his finger inside him until Enji’s body is swamped with heat once more; though a different kind than his flames. It feels more like he did whenever he spent himself in his ex-wife.

Horror floods him. Hawks steps closer still, pulling his finger out. His feathers let Enji slide somewhat down along the wall until he is the perfect height for Hawks to start smearing his cock against Enji’s burning hole. His heart seems to stop for a moment. Hawks is grinning as he rocks his slim hips forward, beginning to force his cock into Enji, all the while running his mouth because he simply can’t be _still_ for just a second, it seems.

“It’s a bummer you’re not nicer than you are, Endeavor-san. You would make a phenomenal himbo, you know? I can’t believe how goddamn stupid you are. But it kind of makes you even hotter, you know? You’re still a virgin, aren’t you? I can feel how fucking tight you are. Have you ever even had sex outside your bedroom? With anyone but your wife? Have you ever even fucked someone for _fun_ , Endeavor-san? God, look at you. _Listen_ to you. You whine like a little bitch. Is my cock too much for you? Do you not like how it burns in your _pussy_?”

Endeavor can’t struggle, the feathers keep him tightly contained. Hawks is moving slowly, showing him just how large the difference between a single finger and a hard cock is. His words hit him almost deeper, though. He has no idea what a ‘himbo’ is, but he’s shocked how accurate Hawks is nonetheless.

The little bastard had an insight that left him reeling as he was gasping for breath with every thrust inside his body that had his hole burning, insides bearing down, squeezing against the intrusion. His belly is hot as if Hawks’ thrusts are filling him with magma, hot and molten.

When he glances down he can see his own cock, fat and trapped between his thighs.

Hawks slaps his ass and squeezes the muscles of his legs, telling him in no uncertain terms yet again how much he appreciates Enji’s… thickness, as he calls it.

He’s maybe half Enji’s size, but it feels like his cock is sliding in impossibly deep and rearranging all his insides, and Enji is helpless but to accept the rude treatment.

He is _helpless._


	2. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – rape tw; mindbreak; dehumanizing; feminization; dark/yandere Jesse; ponyplay – Hanzo has been there for months and there is no end in sight.
> 
> Prequel: B11F2  
> Sequel: B39F1

Jesse is late to the party like usual. The boss had him work on one of the more busted up trucks after he’d gotten caught again swiping one of the beers, so he isn’t surprised that the whole thing is already starting to wind down by the time he finally got the shitty engine to purr like a kitten.

He takes it in stride; it didn’t make sense to get worked up anyway. It’s not like he’d have gotten a taste of the hole when it was still somewhat tight; the top dogs were the ones that got to break the bitches in. Mutts like Jesse only got to wag their tails and be thankful if they got thrown the scraps.

He hangs back and watches as Finny rides Shimada like a pony, using his hair wrapped around his fist as reins. It has become pretty long since they got their hands on the Shimada heir. Jesse thinks that it might become a good deal longer until their father finally caves and gives them the money they’ve been asking for.

Or maybe he would cut ties and just focus his attention on the younger son. Jesse didn’t really know anything about those politics; he’s just at the bottom of the food chain, tinkering with machinery and getting the occasional opportunity to stick his dick into something as pretty as the Shimada.

Hanzo’s a lot more dirty than he was at the beginning of the whole thing. He doesn’t smell new and expensive anymore. But he’s still a whole deal more pretty than any of the people around the gorge.

Jesse knows he’s not always allowed a piece of the prisoner, but he also enjoys to just hang back and watch him.

The past two weeks have been especially hard on Shimada: Finny had come back from a run to the city with a few new contraptions, and it had been so damn hard to get Shimada into them that nobody had been in the mood to take them off again.

His arms were bound tight, hands basically curled over his own shoulders, thick black straps tethering his forearms to his biceps; much the same with his legs.

There are sturdy black caps cushioned on the inside that are supposed to protect his elbows and knees, but Jesse can tell that after two weeks of being made to walk like an animal, Shimada is in absolute agony.

He moves as little as possible; just letting the guys at him. Hoping it’d be over soon.

Jesse would feel a bit more sympathetic if the sight of Shimada crawling on all fours didn’t get him so goddamn hard.

He slinks around the outside, stepping over feet of guys that have long conked out and are snoring, holding empty bottles of beer in their arms as if they were their babes. The steady slap of Finny’s hips against Shimada’s ass is almost enough to lull Jesse in as well. There’s something hypnotizing about it until it suddenly stops, Finny pulling back hard on Shimada’s hair until Hanzo’s back is bent like it is about to snap at any second.

After a minute or two, Finny finally lets go of him and staggers up to his feet. He teeters precariously, obviously just as full as the rest of the guys, then slinks closer to Shimada’s front to somewhat crouch down and wipe his cock dry with a hand full of black hair.

It had been glossy and luxurious once upon a time, but since the guys refused Shimada showers or brushes it had lost a lot of its luster. It’s a damn shame in Jesse’s book, but he’s also too damn lazy to do anything about it. In the end he’s not as hot for hair as the rest of the dudes. He’s more focused on the sloppy ruin of Shimada’s hole.

Finny staggers away, leaving Shimada where he is in the middle of the carnage. Only now does Jesse realize that they put a kind of mask over Hanzo’s head. He’s tethered to a ring stuck in the dusty ground, the chain attached to his collar so short that he can’t go anywhere anyway.

He just stands there on his bound limbs, shaking like a colt.

Jesse waits for a handful of minutes, glancing about, waiting for one of the guys to suddenly lurch upright and go for another round. When nothing of the sort happens, Jesse thinks that his time has finally come.

He approaches Hanzo and shushes him when he starts to shake and pull at the chain, weakly trying to get away but only staggering a little bit on his aching elbows and knees. Jesse awkwardly pats his head with one big hand and crouches down next to him, peering into his face.

The mask mostly covers his eyes, leaving him disoriented and blinded. His beard has grown just as much as his hair. Someone really should put in the effort to groom the bitch, but… Jesse wouldn’t be the one, that was for sure. He didn’t need his mouth anyway; nobody had yet dared to try and use it. The danger was too real.

“Easy, pony… easy…” Jesse drawls. He’s not one of the bad guys. He knows how to treat a lady to a good time. He reaches for the easy hook attached to the collar and opens it, hooking a thick finger into the leather.

“Come. Gonna get you a bit away from the hustle and bustle, huh? Bit of privacy is nice, isn’t it?”

He walks slow to accommodate Hanzo’s agonizing crawl. Shimada is not making a sound, but his he keeps trembling, his whole body radiating the agony he is feeling as he crawls after Jesse like a well-trained mutt. He’s not even asking to be able to see. Maybe he’s figured that it doesn’t change anything anyway. Maybe it is easier if he can get away in his own head while the guys have fun with him. Jesse doesn’t know. He doesn’t really care, either.

All he cares about right now is to empty his balls and then maybe get his hands on a cold beer after all.

He leads Shimada behind one of the trailers, then opens his pants to get his dick out. Shimada’s head lifts a little when he hears the heavy tinkling of the belt. He lets it hang down, knees shuffling apart. Oh yeah. He’s nice and trained.

His hole looks so raw and red it might as well be bloody. There’s slick everywhere. When Jesse pushes in on a long easy thrust, gliding in as if on butter, more cum is being displaced and pressed out of Hanzo with wet squelches.

The pony doesn’t react one way or another. He doesn’t tighten, and he doesn’t make a sound.

The first few times Jesse’s had him, he’s still tried to give him a good time and get him off as well, but the past rounds Hanzo had been so broken that he hadn’t bothered with it anymore. It’s a little sad. He’s been fun when there still had been fire in him. Nowadays he’s really nothing more than a hole for all of them to pump their loads into.

A pretty body they can contort inhumanly and truss up in bondage so they have something to laugh and jerk off to.

Jesse really wouldn’t be surprised if daddy Shimada knew that his son has been pushed past sanity.

Hanzo would never get out of here. Maybe he knew it, too.

Jesse liked the thought of keeping him; like some kind of Deadlock mascot. Maybe he’d even steal him away once the organization would inevitably go to shit.

Who knew.


	3. Lucifer/OC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer/OC – Obey Me! fandom – transmale OC; pining; flirting; slight misunderstanding – Lucifer had watched Tom throughout the year. He needs to have an evening alone with him. Tom proves that he is very considerate for a human. (Part 1)
> 
> Sequel: B37F4

Lucifer immediately stands at the polite knock on the door. One hand lifts to his chest, fingers curling lightly against it. It occurs to him that he is nervous because of a simple human. The thought has a corner of his mouth lightly curl up in amused self-deprecation.

“Enter, please,” he calls out, forcing himself to fold his hands behind his back. He feels strangely underdressed without his cape, but donning it would be ludicrous in his own rooms. His heart skips a beat when the door opens and Tom slips inside, carefully navigating to not jostle the instrument case he has slung across his back, or the satchel he has in his hand.

Lucifer’s mouth opens slightly, taken aback by surprise at the attire. He takes a step forward, but he is too far to actually help Tom with his unexpected burdens before he has already slipped inside and closed the door carefully and without a sound.

“Tom! You are a _guest_ , what-” he interrupts himself at the small glance the human throws him. He clears his throat and comes just a few steps closer before standing there again awkwardly just behind seating arrangement front of the fire. He feels unduly awkward despite being… who he is.

There is already a gorgeous tea set laid out on the small side table, waiting for them to enjoy the blend that Diavolo had gifted him the other day – but as it seems Tom has had his own ideas as well.

“I know that I am a guest,” Tom murmurs. He has his hair up in a ponytail, nervously rubbing at the undercut. “I simply thought… Well. I know you enjoy music, and I…” he trails off, coming closer now, his ears flushed red. It clashes with the green dye of his hair rather spectacularly, but Lucifer finds himself endeared.

Tom is, after all, the same soft spoken gentleman that he had had the pleasure to come to know throughout the year. There is no need to be nervous; he is sure they will have a fantastic evening together.

His eyes trail to the instrument case on his back, and understanding – and excitement – sparks in him.

“Will you play for me, then?”

Tom breathes out explosively, his shoulders relaxing; as if he had expected Lucifer to deny him and send him away.

“Yes, gladly.”

.o.

Lucifer sits with his eyes closed for a few more moments. This evening has not gone the way he had thought. It has already exceeded his expectations, despite them just having sat down for Tom to treat him to the music.

When he finally opens his eyes, he realizes Tom is staring at him anxiously. It does not cease to fascinate him how expressive Tom’s face is, despite wearing the eyepatch.

He smiles mildly, allowing himself to lean over and place his hand on Tom’s knee, squeezing it gently.

“Wonderful. You are truly gifted with this instrument.”

Tom flushes and turns his head away as he leans over to carefully place the bass clarinet in its open case, not yet putting it apart.

“Uhm… thanks.”

Lucifer frowns. He leans in so he can twist around him and see his face. The expressiveness he had admired earlier is severely hampered by the fact that he can only see the side of Tom’s face with the eyepatch.

“Are you unwell?” he asks carefully, then, realizing just how close he has gotten, he quickly takes his hand off of Tom’s knee. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No!” Tom exclaims, louder than Lucifer has ever heard him being, and whips around to stare at him dismayed. “No, no that’s not it. It’s just…” Tom pauses for a moment, gaze sliding back down to stare at his lap where he has now the satchel he had taken with him, fingers worrying the cord that it is closed with. “Mammon said…”

The corner of Lucifer’s mouth twitches. He leans away a little, back ramrod straight. “What did he say?” he asks carefully.

“That you wanted to test me.”

Lucifer can feel his eye twitch. However did Mammon… Well. It did not matter.

“He is not entirely wrong in the accusation, though I will certainly have a word with him later for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Tom stares at him, back curving a bit. He looks _gutted_. “So it is true?”

Lucifer sighs deeply, gaze bouncing through his rooms for a moment before he makes himself look directly at Tom. He owes it to him, after all.

“I did want to ask you about your intentions.” Upon Tom’s confused look, he elaborates: “You have been here for nearly a year now. You have seen all that we have to offer, and… hopefully… that we are not quite as devious as our stories in the human world make us sound.”

He extends his arm along the back of the couch they are on, slowly curling Tom’s pony tail around his fingers. He lets the hair slide through them over and over again, watching his own action as he continues: “I was wondering… are _you_ truly as good as you seem?”

Tom slowly blinks at him.

“I…don’t even know how to answer this. How should I prove that?” He glances away and down, slowly opening the satchel. “I had hoped Mammon was just being an ass again… That you inviting me here tonight meant...”

He interrupts himself. Lucifer, dismayed at how poorly this is going thanks to his meddling brother, stops playing with Tom’s hair, and stares at the human’s hands as he reaches into the satchel and produces…

“Oh my.” Lucifer’s mouth waters at the sight of the poison apple. His fingers itch to just reach over and snatch the succulent treat out of Tom’s lap, but of course has more class than that. “How did you-”

Tom lifts the apple within the satchel so he didn’t have to touch it with his bare fingers towards Lucifer; showing it to him on his palms like an offering to a God.

“I just watched you,” Tom admits, his ears burning red once again. “I am… sorry I can’t give you the answers to your questions… and for wasting your time like this.”

Lucifer, having taken the apple gladly, startles as Tom begins to stand. Without thinking his hand shoots out, curling around Tom’s wrist and pulling him back down.

“Where are you going?!”

“I am leaving,” Tom says, glancing at the tight grasp on his wrist, cheeks visibly flushing. “I can’t answer your questions.”

“But you did already,” Lucifer insists. He leans over and places the apple on his tea tray, then turns back to Tom, hand still around his wrist to make sure he wouldn’t flee in the second he wasn’t watching him. “Your musical talent. Your generosity… Your… delightful, calm personality. It is quite enough.”

Tom is quiet, staring at him in what looks like a mixture of embarrassment and trepidation. Lucifer, fearing that he has muddled things up beyond repair, leans in to put his hand on Tom’s cheek, thumb lightly swiping from the corner of his mouth up across his cheekbone.

“You said you hoped that me inviting you here meant something…” he probes, sliding a little closer when he feels emboldened by the fact that Tom has not rebuffed his advances yet.

Tom’s jaw moves as if he is chewing on his tongue. His gaze drops.

“I had hoped it meant that you have fallen for me. As I have… fallen for you.”

Lucifer inhales sharply, insides surging. He grabs Tom’s jaw and leans in, kissing him with a firm press of lips.


	4. Lucifer/OC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer/OC – Obey Me! fandom – transmale OC; fingering; sloppy BJ; use of the term ‘pussy’; squirting; premature ejaculation – Lucifer had watched Tom throughout the year. He needs to have an evening alone with him. Tom proves that he is very considerate for a human. (Part 2)
> 
> Prequel: B37F3

Tom is… sensitive. An easy companion following Lucifer’s barest touch to crawl up onto his lap and drag his fingers through his hair. Lucifer allows him the freedom; he curls Tom’s long pony tail around his fist, and uses the grip to lightly pull his head back, their lips separating with a wet little smack.

“Tom, I… am humbled,” he murmurs against the human’s panting mouth. “I did not know you felt the same…”

He lightly brushes the backs of his fingers over Tom’s cheek, staring at his eye, a bit glassy with lust, though he can tell he is nervous and unsure where this is going.

“I would like to-”

“Whatever you want,” Tom interrupts him hastily, then visibly bites the inside of his lip, flushing in shame at both his eagerness and his rudeness.

Lucifer smirks slowly, hand letting go of Tom’s hair to reach up and undo the tie holding it together. As he scratches at the shorn sides of his head he murmurs: “I do not wish to presume anything, so please let me know if I am out of line, but…” He leans up, lips barely dragging against Tom’s mouth now as he practically whispers the words into his mouth: “I would love to feel this delightful mouth around me, kitten… before I do my best to make you see stars.”

There’s a rush of air against him as Tom explosively exhales, his eye going dark as his pupil blows wide. Lucifer slips his hand beneath the long hair and lightly scratches at the back of his neck.

“Is this acceptable for you?” he asks on a murmur. “If I call you kitten? And pet?”

Tom shudders, fingers spasming briefly in Lucifer’s hair before he starts to move, hectically sliding his way to the ground in front of him, fingers trembling as they fumble with the openings of his pants.

“Yes, sir!”

Lucifer smiles close-mouthed down at him. He wonders if his fascination and adoration shows on his face as he stares at the human, fingers brushing his hair back from his face. He had not dared to imagine this as the outcome of the evening, but he sure as Hell – hah – is not going to fight it.

Tom’s breath hitches when he has Lucifer’s cock in his hand, hard and warm and silky to the touch of his slightly damp fingers. The nerves are radiating off of him. His cheeks are flushed a rosy red. Lucifer idly plays with the strap of his eyepatch as he gently urges the young man closer via the barely there grip he has on his jaw. He does not need to talk him into it or through it. He does not need to pamper him with sweet nothings.

Tom seems to be starved for this. It might be his first time using his mouth to love on a cock, but he is so enthusiastic that Lucifer would never dream of trying to coach him through this.

“Oh kitten,” he sighs, thumb just sliding below the edge of the eyepatch. “You are an utter delight. If you could just _see_ yourself…”

Tom’s lips are plump from their kisses and now shiny wet as he slurps at Lucifer’s tip and pops it into his mouth with increasing fervor. Lucifer can tell that he is trying to hype himself up to choke himself on the slowly flexing cock, but a tight grip in his hair calms him down fast enough.

His eye flutters closed. A light pull against his scalp, and Tom _groans_ , mouth open, the tip of Lucifer’s cock cushioned on his tongue.

“Oh, you look delightful. Like a song. Gorgeous, I-”

Tom whines and pulls back, his hand jerkily gliding along the spit slick shaft. He puts his cheek against Lucifer’s leg, the other one close enough that his cock can smear against it and leave shiny, sticky streaks.

“Daddy…”

It is so softly spoken, it would be easy to dismiss… if it didn’t set Lucifer’s blood on fire.

He fancies himself educated. A man of the finer tastes of life. Someone that is not easily riled by anything – except, it seems, when a pretty little human boy calls him daddy and drools all over his cock with an enthusiasm akin to playing his bass clarinet.

Lucifer jerks him up and into his lap. He is not sure if what he did was painful, but Tom is not protesting. He isn’t protesting _anything_ , it seems. He hugs Lucifer’s head with both arms against his chest, hard enough to mash Lucifer’s nose painfully against his collar bones, rasping a little litany of ‘daddy’s and ‘sir’s right into his hair as he feels Lucifer’s hand worm its way into his pants.

The space inside Tom’s underwear is humid and sticky. His pussy, when Lucifer palms it gently, is swollen and impossibly hot. Tom has gone very still and rigid as he touches it, panting in harsh bursts against the top of Lucifer’s head, but when he grinds his heel against the swollen cock and calls him a precious kitten, he seems to simply melt.

As easy and as sensitive as he had been when they kissed, following Lucifer’s slightest motions like a well-tuned instrumed, as easy and as sensitive he is now, helping him with motions gone hectic with eagerness until he has kicked off at least one leg of his pants. He tries to sit down on the erection dragging against his cock and mound, but only managing to have it slide off his hole and slip along the insides of his thighs or up his ass crack until Lucifer shushes him and holds him steady.

He grasps his cock and positions it at Tom’s entrance. He would love to peer down between them; see the fat jut of Tom’s cock and the swollen lips of his pussy, but Tom is curled around him desperately, holding on for dear life. Lucifer doesn’t have it in himself to deny him.

So instead of watching it, he just feels as he finally pops into the silky hole, stretching Tom wide around him, and listening to the wheezing breaths he is taking.

“You are doing wonderfully, pet. Phenomenal. The way you feel… sublime…” he whispers. He tries to keep his own breathlessness out of his voice, but he is not too sure whether he succeeds.

He helps Tom slowly move, riding him with tight twists of his hips. When he thinks that he has a rhythm going, he moves to be able to fondle Tom’s dick, gently pulling back on the foreskin and lightly squeezing it between his fingers.

He is… not prepared for the reaction. Not for the sudden ripping at his hair, nor the Tom’s hoarse cry. Not for the sudden strangling tightness around his cock, nor… the wet spray against his hand as Tom comes just a few minutes into their fevered coupling, squirting rather forcefully.

Lucifer is… stunned. Delighted. Surprised and awed. He is still just as hard as he was in the beginning, but he can’t deny the charme of Tom coming prematurely because he was just that tightly wound and sensitive.

“You did so well, kitten,” he croons when Tom is deathly silent other than his frantic panting, his pussy still hugging him warm in impulses. “Ready for another round? And I would very much like to treat you to a shower afterwards… I would love to be able to wash you…”

Outside, Asmodeus walks past, a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face.


	5. McCree/Reyes; (Reyes/Soldier76)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Reyes (Reyes/Soldier76) – hypnotizing; rape/dub-con; titjob; cuckolding; pre-fall skins for Gabe and Soldier – Jesse’s always been so goddamn hot for his commander (Part1)
> 
> Prequel: B35F3  
> Sequel: B37F6

Jesse only has a scant few seconds of standing outside the locker rooms like a creep and staring inside at the Commander before Gabriel shows just why he is the head of Blackwatch.

One moment Jesse palms his cock watching Reyes bend over, arm between his legs, stuffing his fat ass with two fingers, the next Reyes’ head is suddenly snapping up and his back goes rigid.

Jesse has no idea how he even noticed that he’s standing there perving on him – Gabriel probably has a sixth sense for that kind of shit – but suddenly he finds himself in the dubious pleasure of being Reyes’ sole focus.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Reyes grunts, standing smoothly and grabbing a towel in one motion to casually shield his half-hard dick from sight as he turns. “Get in here.”

Jesse inhales deeply, big hand curling tighter around the device… though not too tight. He does not want to damage it, after all.

He pushes the doors open, feeling like he is about to have a heart attack, but… that’s what he wanted, right? To get in while Reyes was preparing himself for Morrison like the good little slut he apparently was.

Reyes’ eyes tighten minimally, looking Jesse up and down, sensual wide mouth pulled into a derisive smirk.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, McCree?” he repeats, voice dangerously soft. Jesse has heard that tone of voice before. Usually just before Reyes shoots someone in the head after getting all the information that he needs. He inhales deeply and makes himself stop being a fucking coward. This is what he planned for. He knows the device is working. He’s tested it, after all.

He grins crookedly and closes the door behind him, fingers easily swiping over the pad, locking them in. Reyes’ dark eyes follow the motion, thinning minutely even more as he obviously wonders whether Jesse has lost his goddamn mind.

“Ah, you know,” Jesse drawls. He can’t quite make himself look at Reyes yet; the Commander definitely has put the fear of God into him, making him all the hotter to finally be able to touch him. Play with him as he wants. His fingers twitch around the device. “I just thought I’d come here… watch yerself bein’ a fuckin’ whore.”

Reyes’ mouth twitches, Jesse can see it out of the corner of his eyes. For a moment it looks like he is almost about to grin, but it feels like that might be even worse than the slow scowl that is darkening his face.

“...Pardon?” Gabriel says silkily, hands slowly spreading the towel to curl it around his wide hips. Presumably to have them free to strangle Jesse.

His fingers twitch around the device again. He finally looks right into Gabriel’s eyes.

“I jus’ thought that it’s mighty unfair you’d fuck your fat ass in the lockers to go and have Morrison dick you, and nobody’s allowed to look.”

A muscle in Reyes’ cheek jumps. Jesse jerks his arm up, hand open, showing him the device sitting on his palm; probably a split second before Reyes would have bashed his goddamn skull in.

Reyes’ dark eyes flick over to it for just a second, brows twitching. His body stills. Jesse exhales; he’s not too proud to admit that he’s been a second from pissing his pants. Reyes’ face goes blank – then scrunches up again.

Jesse’s insides shrivel up as he sees him fighting against the pull of the little device. He takes a step closer, lifting it up some. Reyes’ face contorts weirdly before it finally settles on the blank expression Jesse is used to from other victims of his little plays. He exhales again, leaving the device up in the air for now. It wouldn’t do to have him get back out of the thrall just because the machine was out of sight too quickly.

“...Gabriel,” he drawls. “Take that towel off.”

Gabriel doesn’t jump to action like an eager teen, but he moves even so. His motions, slow and almost deliberate, have Jesse break out in goosebumps. His mouth goes dry as the towel falls and he can look the Commander up and down in peace.

Fuck Morrison for getting to have that any day – any goddamn time, even – he wanted. He doesn’t think the Strike Commander even appreciated how fucking _sexy_ Reyes is. His skin looks still a bit damp from the shower he took after his workout, nipples pebbled and delicious looking. Jesse wants to _bite_ them.

“Turn around,” he rasps, finally lowering his arm and putting the device on the wooden locker room benches, studiously not looking at it directly as it kept working its magic. Gabriel does as told; showing him the broad expanse of his muscular back, and the fat globes of his ass. Jesse reaches out and grabs them with both hands, digging his fingers in, pulling them apart, having a peek at the swollen, wet glistening hole that Gabriel had finger banged earlier – then abruptly lets them go to watch them jiggle.

“Damn,” he whispers, hand dragging over his mouth and chin heavily, beard rasping against his palm. “Turn around again… And… kneel down.”

Gabriel does, handsome face still blank. Had anybody asked Jesse before all of this whether he’d find this shit attractive, he would have emphatically said no. But since the devious little device enables him to get it on with all those men far above his league, he’s drastically changed his opinion.

Gabriel’s tits, as the rest of his body, are a thing of goddamn beauty. Wide and firm and meaty; enough to grab and get a jiggle out of; maybe even fill a nice bra.

Jesse heavily sits down on the bench next to the gently humming machine and grabs the top of Gabriel’s hair, dragging him around. Reyes is unresisting, shuffling closer on his knees until he is right there, tits at the perfect height for Jesse to get his cock out and smear the wet tip through the valley between them.

It’s better than he could have ever imagined. He groans deep in his throat, big hands grabbing Gabriel’s tits and squishing them together. They’re almost plump enough to properly cushion Jesse’s cock between them without any need to hold it in place.

“Help me,” he grunts. Reyes doesn’t move for a second, then slowly lifts his hands to fold them over Jesse’s fat, ruddy cock, building a tunnel for him to fuck through.

He feels like he’s going to overheat. Reyes is first looking down with blank, dark eyes, then _up_ , staring right at Jesse’s sweaty, flushed face while he gets his pecs fucked like a pair of tits.

“Morrison must’ve done this to you already,” Jesse grunts, standing in an awkward half-squat over the bench because he can’t properly thrust with his ass sitting down. “Bet he’s had you every which damn way. I’ll fuck you like he does, boss. Show you how much better my big cock is. Maybe you’ll remember it on some way… maybe you’ll come crawling to me sniffing for dick instead of this asshole.”

He grunts with every thrust, aggression having him dig his fingers even deeper into Gabriel’s pecs until he is sure they’ll be bruised with a nice impression of each and every finger tip by the end of this.

“Gonna fuck. You. Up. Boss,” he grits between clenched teeth.


	6. McCree/Reaper; (Reaper/Soldier76)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Reyes (Reyes/Soldier76) – hypnotizing; rape/dub-con; BJ; cuckolding; pre-fall skins for Gabe and Soldier – Jesse’s always been so goddamn hot for his commander (Part2)
> 
> Prequel: B37F5  
> Sequel: B39F4

“Come on… kiss it,” Jesse hisses. The sight of his swollen tip emerging so close to Reyes’ plump lips is something he can only tolerate for a handful of minutes before the need to feel that mouth becomes overwhelming.

It’s the one downfall of the little device gently humming away next to him: there’s no initiative or spontaneity. He has to tell Gabriel what he wants and how he wants it. It is a little price to pay in comparison to what he gets: Reyes’ lips gently closing around the very tip of Jesse’s dick as he suckles like it is a lollipop.

He makes him look up at him as he does so. The heavy lidded stare out of Reyes’ dark eyes hits him right in the gut. He squirts out pre-cum like an overexcited puppy peeing itself a little, and it promptly dribbles out the corner of Gabriel’s mouth, vanishing in his perfectly kept goatee.

God, the man is so sexy. He is everything Jesse could only hope to achieve one day. If he weren’t so goddamn lazy, that is.

He lightly moves his hips, Gabriel’s slick, glistening tits forgotten for the moment in favor of gently nudging his cock further and further into his mouth, dragging the crown along his slippery tongue.

It’s difficult to impart on his victims how to put a bit of eagerness into what they are forced to do, so he does not try it too much to not get annoyed. He wants to savor this moment.

This special, rare, probably once-in-a-lifetime occasion in which he can fuck his Commander like a bitch and then send him away to Morrison so the stuck up bastard could see that another man has been there before him.

The thought has Jesse grinning like a maniac, hands grasping the sides of Gabriel’s head to hold him nice and steady at the perfect angle for him to fuck his mouth in rough little thrusts. The inside of Gabriel’s mouth is liberally wet, so it all produces wet squelching sounds.

“Like fucking a goddamn pussy,” Jesse groans softly, balls already tight up against his body. He couldn’t come like this, though. Well… he _could_ come like this, very easily in fact, but he did not _want_ to.

He pulls out of Gabriel’s mouth with a soft pop and watches as his erection bounces in front of his mouth, squirting out another generous dribble of pre-cum that hits the Commander’s cheek and the back of his nose.

Reyes doesn’t even flinch; just keeps staring up at him with that vacant, vaguely obedient expression.

“Get up. Turn around. Bend over.” Jesse steps back a little, fist around his cock, slowly jerking himself and rubbing his thumb in small circles over the wet crown as he watches Reyes comply without even an ounce of hesitation. He is not quick about it, but he’s also not dragging it along; simply following Jesse’s orders to a T.

One of the lockers – the commander’s – is open. Jesse realizes that he can see their reflections in the small mirror in the door, and almost nuts at the thought of having the commander like a cheap whore in a flea ridden love hotel bed.

He watches himself in the mirror as he sidles up behind him and grabs one of his legs, feeling up the thick, muscular thigh, then bending the knee up until the commander’s foot is on the bench he’s leaning over.

Jesse looks down, almost becoming nauseous at how hot he is for the sight of Reyes’ fat ass opened all on its own just because he put his leg up like that. His hole is still wet, the rim plump like his mouth. Waiting for something to stuff it full.

“Goddamn, you’re so goddamn _thick,_ ” Jesse groans as he sidles up closer behind him. Close enough that he can sloppily let his cock nose up against that swollen hole, circling and pressing but never letting it actually slip inside just to tease himself. “Never seen a guy with a figure like yours. Holy shit.”

One hand is grasping the top of a thigh, just to hold on and be able to grope as he takes his time watching from above and through the reflection of the mirror how it looks to mount Gabriel Reyes like a bitch.

Jesse loves his commander. He has no ill-will towards him (despite how many times Reyes has already chewed him out in front of everybody)... but he is also not above admitting how fucking _hot_ he is for that curvy body. That fat ass.

Morrison doesn’t _deserve_ it, quite frankly.

He finally has enough of teasing himself and begins to push inside. There’s enough slick from Reyes fingering himself that he can slide in with a bit of back-and-forth movement, inching himself inside and trying not to lose himself in the sensation.

Gabriel takes it like a champ, of course. Jesse likes to think that it has nothing to do with him being hypnotized. His hands are curled around the wooden slats making up the locker room benches, head hanging low as he gets filled from behind.

Jesse can imagine him doing the exact same if he were here of his own accord. Just breathing through the sensation of getting spread open on a fat, ruddy dick.

He pauses for a moment when his hips are pressed against the fat ass cheeks, eyes closing, breathing in deeply. The thought that Morrison can have this any day of the week whenever he so desires, has his hackles raising. God, the bastard probably didn’t even appreciate the feeling anymore; just rabbit fucked Reyes and pumped his load in without a second thought.

Not that Jesse is any better about it when he starts to rail him. What he had wanted were long, leisurely strokes of reaming his commander like a pro; part of him hoping he would remember just how good he got from his subordinate.

In actuality, Jesse doesn’t have the patience for it. He’s bend over Reyes’ back, fucking him in sharp thrusts that take him barely an inch out of the tight grip before drilling back in. He is almost close enough to bear hug him from behind and dragging his face between the commander’s shoulder blades, but then he wouldn’t be able to see the reflection in the little mirror.

And… he _needs_ to see that reflection.

His mouth is hanging open, almost drooling as he stares at the way the thickly muscled pecs bounce like a pair of tits. He slows his thrusts down somewhat and watches as the shockwave of his hips hitting Reyes’ fat ass goes visibly through his body – and ending in a porn-like bounce in his pecs.

“Wish your stud could see us, boss,” he rasps as he reaches around to grasp one tit in a rough hand. “Wish you weren’t brain dead right now so you’d know how much better I am he’d never appreciate properly how slutty you can be.”

He closes his eyes and finally puts his forehead between Garbiel’s shoulder blades, hips pumping faster as he feels the crescendo coming up.

He thinks the sight of Gabriel’s thick body bouncing has burned into his retinas. that’s years of spank material.


	7. Bruce/Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jason – somnophilia reversal – it’s Bruce’s time to have his fun with a sleeping man. And an existential crisis.
> 
> Prequel: B36F7  
> Sequel: B39F8

Bruce doesn’t think he’s slept, but one moment he is still being crushed beneath Jason’s weight, his ass filled with cock and cum… and the next he is on _top_ of Jason and has no recollection of how they managed it.

He shifts slightly. It doesn’t take more for the soft tip of Jason’s cock to finally slip out of him. Bruce’s ass aches. He’s used to ignoring pain or just plain pushing it somewhere that he doesn’t actively experience it anymore, but this is a kind of discomfort that takes him off guard and seems to want to make itself very apparent.

His hole feels swollen impossibly. In his mind’s eye he feels like he should have the rim of a horse. He shifts a bit again, pulls a face when cum starts to drip from him, and reaches back to slide fingers between his cheeks and feel his abused ass. He can feel how swollen the muscle is. How wet with a load that hasn’t been pumped into him too long ago. It’s still dark outside, after all.

Bruce exhales softly when his probing fingertips slip inside him easily. His face feels flaming hot, the flush crawling down his neck and into his chest. He feels like Jason should be… woken up by it, but the young man is just sleeping, his face slack in repose. The face of a man that has just raped another sleeping man and nutted so hard that Bruce imagines his cum deep in his guts.

His brain is seemingly limping two paces behind, scrambled from getting fucked so hard and sudden and not being allowed to come. He wonders whether Jason would have let him get his completion, had he known about Bruce’s cock trapped beneath his body and wrapped in the slick silk sheets dragging rudely over his swollen tip.

Or maybe Jason hates him so damn much that he would have made sure by any means necessary that Bruce wouldn’t orgasm from having a fat cock rammed up his virgin hole.

He… reluctantly enjoys the thought. He’s always liked self-flagellation. This fantasy plays into that need.

He keeps slowly fingering himself, not daring to move too much in fear of waking Jason. He’s not exactly sure what would happen in that case, but given their usual altercations he is pretty certain it would end in either Jason and him fighting before Jason fled, or… Jason fleeing without raising his fists.

Bruce doesn’t want him gone. He never wanted him gone.

Bruce lightly shifts his legs apart, knees coming to rest on the bed, ass… opening up. God, his rim is so swollen. It kisses his fingertips, but Jason’s cum is not enough to properly slick the way. He rounds his fingertip just inside the passage, pressing into all those aching, raw places to make the pain flare again and have his heartrate pick up.

The knowledge that he’s managed to sleep through most of his own rape boggles his mind. He’s always been an exceptionally light sleeper. How could this have happened? Has he sabotaged himself? Has he known all along what was happening but had been too overjoyed for Jason to come to him that he has kept himself asleep? Is it possible?

He does not care at this point. Not really. Not when he can feel a cheeky erection bumping against his knuckles. Bruce’s insides go hot and shivery. He pulls his fingers out of his own ass and blindly grasps behind him until he finally catches the warm shaft in his palm. The skin feels soft but sticky from Jason fucking him earlier.

Bruce is far from impotent, but he can’t quite remember the last time he’s managed to get it up this quickly in succession. It reminds him of how young Jason still is. How much of his life he still got to get out of this whole damn game and maybe start a life on some farm, taking care of stray dogs and other animals.

Bruce slowly drags his hand awkwardly over Jason’s cock. He’s never jerked another dick, but Jason is asleep so he does not need to have too much skill, he thinks.

Watching the slack face carefully, Bruce does something he would have never thought he’d ever do: he moves a cock so it is snuggled up at his swollen, aching, abused hole… and begins to back onto it.

There’s still just as little lube as before. The burn is immediate and intense and takes Bruce’s breath away, but it is also… good.

It grounds him. It excites him. Jason’s face flinches but settles again in moments as Bruce slowly keeps backing up, spearing himself on this young man’s cock. Filling his aching, raw intestines with dick yet again.

The feeling is indescribable. He’s never considered himself to be a sexual deviant, but raping himself on a sleeping man’s cock is doing… things to him. His cock is swollen between them, but Bruce does not want to touch himself. He almost wishes Jason were awake and would force himself on him again. Maybe tell him in no uncertain terms that Bruce wouldn’t get to come. All he was good for was to offer up his no-longer-virgin cunt and keep Jason’s cock warm.

Bruce groans softly, the heat coursing through his body reaching a fever pitch when he finally manages to pop the ridge past his burning rim and knows he’s crammed the whole tip of Jason’s cock into himself.

Sweat is starting to bead along his hairline, eyes fixed still on Jason’s lax, sleeping face. Bruce wonders distantly whether Jason is just as ‘asleep’ as he was during most of his molestation. He wonders if that means that Jason deep down… if he… _wants_ to be with Bruce.

Bruce bites the tip of his tongue and lowers his head until it is almost pressed against Jason’s shoulder. His inside is liquid and hot from the cock he is trying to take mostly dry. Everything feels weird and distorted; as if he is sick and this is a mere feverdream.

The thought of getting yet another load of Jason’s inside him that he can carry around even after the young man would inevitably flee spurns him on to push himself down on it deeper.

Slowly but surely, Bruce sits himself up. Jason shifts a bit but ultimately his eyes stay closed until he puts one arm over his face, the light pressure against his nose making him start to snore.

Tactic? Or real? Bruce can’t tell anymore. It is hard to think when his ass is being stretched on cock and the burn eats through his body until his toes curl.

Bruce closes his eyes, hips mostly still except for the occasional small rocking motion. He does not need much, really. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this close this easily with any pussy he’s drilled into.

Is it the cock? Or is it Jason? Bruce presses a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle any sound he makes, head full of questions that he can’t answer.

He just hopes he’ll be done before Jason wakes.


	8. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – micro cock; Jack POV; happy ending – They are sappy old men at heart.
> 
> Prequel: B36F6

Gabriel has him folded practically in half at this point. Jack is forced to stare at his own micro cock, hard but barely visibly so. Had he still had his monster dick from SEP days, he is sure he’d been able to easily blow himself while Gabriel rode him to kingdom come… but alas.

Jack doesn’t have his big fat cock anymore. He’s locked it away to shrivel up over the past decade-or-so (years are becoming quickly muddled at their age), and he’s left as a sad old man with a cock the size of a peanut.

He can barely believe that Gabriel would find him actually desirable like this, but... he _does_ look pretty into it as he carefully balances on the bed, his hands on the backs of Jack’s thighs, holding them while he tries to feed his cock to Jack’s hole without touching it.

He tries once, twice, letting Jack feel the girthy dick slip sliding against his back and thighs whenever it glances off of his hole, then seems to become too impatient for the games and grabs it after all, holding his cock still so he can pop the tip into Jack and take what little breath he still has left.

Would Gabriel fuck a man that he did not find attractive? For a mission, absolutely. On his spare time? Jack doesn’t think the Devil himself could make Gabriel Reyes do what he does not want to do.

The thought is calming him down somewhat, the knot in his tightly crunched belly unfurling a bit. His cocklet is aching, wanting a couple fingers to jerk it off, but neither Jack nor Gabriel are reaching for the poor excuse of a dick quite yet.

Gabriel is pausing with just the tip of his cock squeezed into Jack’s tight insides. Jack stares at him through the V of his legs, watching as Gabriel leans his head back and closes his eyes, clearly savoring the feeling of the heat around his crown; the intermittent clenches and trembling of Jack’s insides as he can’t help but be agitated.

It’s been so very long since he’s gotten fucked.

“G...Gabriel,” he rasps, voice strained due to being balled up like this. He doesn’t know what to say next, really, but Gabriel looks down at him and his face becomes, if possible, even softer. His large hands grasp the backs of his thighs, slowly rubbing up and down, leaving warmth in their wake that seems to spread throughout Jack’s body.

“I’m here. Don’t worry, Jackie,” he croons, and slowly rocks his hips to sink himself deeper into Jack’s hot, clenching body. Jack hadn’t even known he needed to hear that but… wow. He does feel better.

He inhales as deeply as the position lets him and nods. Gabriel smiles at him slow and lazy. Jack is so focused on just how plain _handsome_ the man is that he doesn’t even register the first few things he’s crooning at him.

It doesn’t matter. They’re all sweet endearments, Gabriel distracting him by making him flush hot with embarrassment while he rocks his way deeper and deeper into Jack’s body. Jack groans, putting a hand over his face. Blood is rushing in his ears, nearly drowning out Gabriel trying his hardest to have Jack spontaneously combust.

It doesn’t even occur to him what is happening until his guts suddenly feel so… full; rim stretched around cock, trembling, insides squeezing down helplessly.

His cocklet feels like it is flexing, but when he looks he can barely see any movement at all. Of course.

“Fuck, Jackie… this is so hot,” Gabriel rasps. He reaches between Jack’s thighs and easily grabs his whole package in his palm. He can lightly squeeze it and make Jack choke on his own tongue because the sensation of one’s cock and balls getting held like this in a big warm hand is completely otherworldly.

Gabriel starts moving, but he does not let go of Jack’s package. He does change his grip a little bit, spreading his fingers apart to let the raisin cock slip between them. He pinches the hard little nub between two knuckles. It’s not a painful sensation, there’s not enough pressure to make it one, but there is enough to let Jack feel for the first time in _decades_ like he is fucking something.

Gabriel fucks him, jostling his body in the process, and lets his micro erection rub against his fingers.

Jack feels like he is losing his mind, breathing into his palms, and staring wide-eyed up at Gabriel throning over him.

“There you go… fuck, Jackie… you feel so incredible.”

Gabriel’s voice is strained, the hand bracing itself on the back of Jack’s thigh, digging its fingers in more tightly as he keeps fucking straight down and into Jack’s guts.

He looks ecstatic as he gazes down at Jack, eyes wandering over his curled up body like he’s seeing something phenomenal. As if Jack’s old man body was something Gabriel actively desired.

Maybe he does.

No… _definitely_.

Jack starts to relax, pale eyes on Gabriel the whole time, little groans of pleasure fucked out of him by the fat cock in his guts and the warm hand around his junk. Keeping him nice and secure.

He does not know whether it is the way he looks, or the way he feels, but something seems to finally satisfy Gabriel. He pauses, then begins to slowly rearrange their bodies, somehow managing to keep deep inside Jack.

He has to let go of Jack’s junk, but that is a small price to pay for the fact that Jack now can be fucked in missionary and is able to hug Gabriel to his body as he gets deep dicked slow and… loving.

Gabriel trails leisurely kisses against Jack’s shoulder and neck, then drags their cheeks together.

He grinds in deep, stops, cock flexing inside Jack and belly pressing down almost painfully against the micro dick.

Stars explode in front of Jack’s eyes as he comes, pumping out cream that smears between their bellies. There’s a roar in his ears, heat washing through his body. He loses himself for a while. Seconds? Minutes? He can’t tell.

By the time he comes back to himself and is able to breathe, he realizes he’s scratched Gabriel’s back up something fierce. He carefully pulls his short nails out of his skin and blinks up at him come dumb and relaxed for the first time in a very long while.

(McCree always told him it’d improve his attitude if he just got fucked for once.)

Gabriel is panting softly next to his ear. Maybe he’s come sometime during Jack’s orgasm. He can’t recall.

“I love you, Jackie,” he rasps softly. “So damn much.”

Jack closes his eyes, the last tangled up bits in his belly unfurling. He hugs Gabriel to himself.


	9. McCree/Hanzo; Hanzo/dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo/dragons; McCree/Hanzo – texting; consensual blackmaililng; beastiality – Hanzo says he thinks McCree is disgusting, but he does really like to play with him it seems...
> 
> Prequel: B36F8  
> Sequel: B38F14

McCree has sent him a snippet from a video. He is surprisingly diligent now about trying to force Hanzo into doing what he wants. The thing is that Hanzo knows he wouldn’t go blabbing to their teammates about it.

It is a stalemate that he thoroughly enjoys. Blueballing McCree is a new favorite pastime of his.

Hanzo has to wait a few hours until he can finally stretch out on his bed and look at what McCree has sent him. Hidari and Migigawa join him, their astral forms a bit smaller so they can fit onto his bunk, framing him from each side, curling about him. They’re as needy as he is for affection, and he can’t deny them any longer to get out from his skin and stretch their limbs.

Hanzo lets their low purring and the crackling of electricity running through their bodies give him goosebumps. The hairs along his arms lift with a prickling sort of sensation, and his body heats up needily even before he pulls up the video that McCree had sent him earlier in the middle of a conference.

He’s almost tapped on it then and there in his eagerness. As he does it now he realizes just how foolish that could have been.

He hadn’t known how _loud_ they were when they coupled. He’d never even _realized_ …

Hidari and Migigawa shift a bit. He can feel their embarrassment as the huge crackling beasts in the video snarl amorously as they fuck Hanzo between them.

They had thought themselves save there in the middle of nowhere just with a few sheep for company. Hanzo’s cheeks grow warm, and his belly slowly fills with magma. Oh… it’s no longer a mystery why McCree had been able to find them. Or come that close for the matter.

“Naughty,” he rasps, eyes fixed on the little screen. The video is just a few seconds long but it loops again and again, the trilling growls of the beasts burning into his brain. They try to squirrel away, but his hand shoots out, grabbing one of Migigawa’s horns and turning his head so Hanzo can look down on him. “Look what you did. This dirty American man saw us because you two were being _naughty_.”

Hidari is at the foot of the bed, watching as Hanzo puts the phone to the side and sits up, hand still around the horn of the great beast. They’re ancient, proud creatures… but they have spent enough time bound to Hanzo’s self that they have taken on quite a few characteristics of their master.

Like their enjoyment in being told what to do. Pushed around. Made to submit.

Migigawa’s long, ethereal body is twisting like a snake, but he is not truly trying to extricate himself from Hanzo’s hard grip as he is being moved around to his master’s specifications.

Hanzo comes to kneel on the bed, looking at the two beasts, shrunken down to the size of men, slim bodies undulating.

“Anybody else could have seen us,” he says disdainfully. The thought excites him beyond belief. It has the back of his head where the ancient dragons reside light up with all kinds of prickling, tickling sensations that crawl down the back of his neck and along his spine. It is delicious and distracting.

Hidari has turned on his back now, showing his belly in submission. It would maybe work if his cock weren’t peeking out of the sheath, translucent slick already gathering at the tapered tip.

Hanzo snorts. He keeps holding Migigawa tight by his horn, then twists to grab his phone. He takes a picture of the beast, held low by his crotch, the bearded muzzle pressed against an obvious bulge.

He sends it to McCree without a comment, excitement having him start to sweat as he wonders what the reaction to the candid photo might be. He is disgusted by the cowboy – he can, after all, smell the pig even before he enters a room – but he does enjoy playing with him. A lot.

He finds himself thinking of the unkempt brute more often than he’d like, these days.

He throws the phone next to his knee on and pulls Migigawa just far enough away to open his fly. His cock does not need much encouragement to slide out. He grips it idly, feeling it silky and hot as it slides through his slowly pumping fist. Warmth crawls through his body, the magma in his abdomen slowly moving, thick and delicious as it burns up his nerve endings.

He feels like the electricity running through the dragons is springing over to him, having him hyper aware of Migigawa’s breath fanning hot over his fist and the slick head of his cock… and the shrill beep of his phone when a message comes in.

Hanzo slowly lets go of his dick and reaches for the device. As he isn’t looking, Migigawa leans further in, long, forked tongue lapping against the hot flesh. Hanzo hisses, eyes flinching to the beast. Migigawa stares back at him, slowly opening his maw and showing off the rows of sharp teeth as he lovingly curls his long tongue around his master’s twitching cock.

It is like playing around with a little shock device. The electricity is dancing just on this side of pleasurable. His eyes are starting to water, making it hard to even read what the filthy man has sent him. He lets go off Migigawa’s horn, instead mindlessly petting between his ears as he blinks profusely to try and focus long enough for McCree’s drivel.

_Shit shimada can i come over???_

Hanzo snorts. He looks down again, phone forgotten in his hand as he watches Migigawa coming closer, maw opening again so he can come closer, slipping the cock of his master into the prickling warmth that sparks through Hanzo’s body like pinpricks. He hisses through his teeth, goosebumps breaking out along his arms and crawling over his chest. It focuses on his nipples, even more tears of overstimulation springing to his eyes.

There’s another beep in his hand, but he does not read McCree’s message. He just snaps another picture of his cock halfway in Migigawa’s maw, the sharp teeth lining it only millimeters from the sensitive, thin skin stretched tight over his shaft.

He sends it, then throws the phone away again. He wants to see McCree limping through the watchpoint; dragging a leg because his balls are too fat and tender to walk normally. He wants him kneeling and begging for the privilege of watching Hanzo play with his spirits.

Saying please and thank you for Hanzo stepping on his ruddy unwashed cock. He’s sure it stinks just as much as the man himself.

He groans, biting into his wrist, hips gently rocking as he fucks against Migigawa’s tongue, slippery, slimy see-through saliva easily coating him.

It occurs to him dimly, as his phone goes off with a rapid fire of messages, that their play might have just begun.

Oh, how fun...


	10. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – abo; extreme cum inflation; watersports; different POVs – Gabriel’s torture finally has an end :)
> 
> Prequel: B36F9

Jack’s just not waking up. He’s even started snoring again softly, his face slack in repose while Gabriel is still trying to wrap his head around the impossible swell of his belly. He stares down at it, not daring to touch himself.

In his mind’s eye his stomach would burst like an overripe tomato, gushing out the gallons of cum that Jack has somehow pumped into him and keeping locked securely with the absolutely massive knot he has suddenly sprouted.

Gabriel can hear himself breathing; loud and obnoxious wheezing sounds that have failed to wake Jack like anything else, really.

“Jack you goddamn idiot,” he grits out between clenched teeth, tears itching at the corners of his eyes. It takes him precious minutes until he finally can make himself curl an arm around his swollen stomach, slowly rubbing a hand over it. It’s pinging all kinds of weird nerve endings and sensations.

The thought that he’s having a cum baby makes him a bit hysterical.

His hand bumps into a weird little nub in the middle of his stomach. He can’t see a thing, but when he starts to round it with trembling fingers it occurs to him that this is his belly button. Gabriel clenches his eyes shut tightly, a wave of panic sloshing through his body and leaving him numb. He’s holding it together by the skin of his teeth, teetering on an edge-

Until Jack moves. Slow and sleepy like a man waking up, but sudden enough to burst the shivering bubble Gabriel had painstakingly wrapped around himself.

Without warning, his dams break. Literally. It’s pure and stupid Omegan instinct. He _hates_ it… but it feels so damn good. It takes a lot of pressure away that he hadn’t even known was there.

He just sits there speared on Jack’s cock, filled with his inhumanly large knot and swollen by his cum and pisses like a goddamn horse. He’s showering Jack’s belly in the hot liquid. It soaks the bed just seconds later. When he realizes it, he whimpers, all subdued; instincts he hadn’t known he even possessed suddenly at the forefront, telling him simultaneously he was a bad Omega for getting their nest (nest…?) dirty, but also a good good _good_ one for showing his Alpha this kind of submission.

It’s base and lewd but fills his body with the good kind of tingles that he hasn’t felt in a while.

Of course it is then that Jack finally snorts awake, blinking up at him with bleary blue eyes that quickly go sharp and focused when he takes in what is happening.

Stupid fucking supersoldier brain working at max capacity _now_ when he should have been awake and helping Gabriel out of the situation a good fifteen minutes ago.

Fucking idiot.

.o.

“What the Hell’s happenin’?” Jack slurs. It’s the best he can do after being woken up by getting showered in hot Omega piss. The pheromones wafting off of Gabriel are making his brain all muddled and weird. It’s like he’s not properly woken up after all.

He reaches out slowly. He has to test whether this is a dream or not.

Gabriel squawks the second he moves, something tugs at his groin, and more piss gushes from his mate’s plump, soft dick. He’s never seen his Omega submissively piss himself.

He’s never seen Gabriel’s cock almost hidden by the swell of his belly either, for that matter.

Jack blinks slowly. He stops moving and instead just holds steadily on to Gabriel’s hips as he tries to process what is happening. What he is seeing.

Gabriel’s belly is… it is _huge_. Jack’s cock twitches, but he can feel that he’s not going to get hard any time soon. In fact, he can feel he is already knotted.

“What-”

He closes his eyes slowly, gathering himself despite the onslaught of pheromones, then makes himself look again and take stock of the situation.

Under Gabriel’s weak, whining protests, he gently puts a hand on the huge stomach and gives it a little push. It sloshes with liquid like a water balloon. Shit. That’s… actually really hot.

He glances up into Gabriel’s face, shiny with sweat. The scent of piss is acrid in his nostrils but he can already feel himself wanting this again. Wanting to fuck Gabriel up until he pisses himself like a much younger Omega.

“Did I do that to you?” he asks softly, voice pitched nice and low to not agitate Gabriel further. His mate is breathing heavily now, shuddering intermittently the longer Jack rubs and kneads at his huge stomach. When Jack’s thumb passes over the little mound of his belly button, he makes a sound like a wounded animal, his cock filling rapidly even squished beneath his belly as it is.

Gabriel doesn’t answer. Maybe he can’t find the words anymore. Jack has no idea how long this has been going on. How could he have slept through getting the biggest knot of his life and filling Gabriel with cum like a balloon?

It didn’t matter now.

Jack keeps gently rubbing the huge belly. It seems to alleviate some of the pain Gabriel undoubtedly must be feeling. He lightly presses against the lower swell of it, pushing it up just a tad from the trapped cock. Gabriel’s rough, primal cry of lust has him jerk his hand away again as if burned.

Jack keeps staring up at him, fascinated and so confused. He will have to look at the video file later. See what Athena has picked up on as Gabriel got put through his paces.

He slowly shifts his legs, trying to see how far his knot has gone down. Gabriel cries out again, a bit panicky now, scrabbling for Jack to stay right where he is. In his struggles, Jack’s knot slips out without much fanfare. It flops against his thigh wet and hot with body heat before a lot of stuff happens:

There’s a veritable _deluge_ of cum spraying against Jack’s thighs when the stopper that has held the whole mess in is suddenly gone.

Gabriel is crying out again, shaking, panicking about only he knew what. Jack has a moment of realizing his Omega was coming while finally emptying his bowels of the cum enema he had received before he curls his arms around Gabriel to gentle him down and hold him through it all.

He can only vaguely imagine what it must feel like to finally get to release everything.

Gabriel is nearly incoherent in his arms; fucked stupid.

They reek of sweat, piss and cum. Jack would have never thought that Gabriel’s body could stretch in the way that it has.

It’s… really good to know.

“Shhh… shhh everything is alright,” he rasps, trying his best to be comforting and not stink of how hot he found all of this. Gabriel would never let him hear the end of it otherwise.


	11. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – rape aftercare; general aftercare – Hanzo struggles with what he’s done but tries to be there for Jesse... and actually manages in his own way.
> 
> Prequel: B36F10  
> Sequel: B38F10

Jesse is cooperative enough in getting back to their rooms. He is quiet, hanging heavily onto Hanzo. There’s a nasty bruise blooming on his forehead from where Hanzo had slammed it against the ground to make him stop fight. Guilt is eating away at Hanzo.

True… Jesse had asked for this. But did Hanzo have to go through with it so convincingly? So unapologetically?

He guides Jesse into the bathroom and sits him down on the closed lid of the toilet. It only occurs to him afterward that having him sit like this probably didn’t necessarily lessen the pain, but Jesse doesn’t make a single sound of discomfort; just sits there slumped over, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor between his boots.

Hanzo quietly moves about, grabbing a light biotic emitter and other utensils. When he steps back into the bathroom he has a split moment to let all the stuff fall onto the thick bath mat before rushing to Jesse who was leaning precariously forward as if all the tension had just left his body.

Hanzo carefully pushes him back upright and grasps his scruffy cheeks, tilting his head to look into his face. Jesse’s gentle brown eyes are glassy. He looks like he wants to do nothing more than sleep – Hanzo feels with him on that front.

“...Anata,” Hanzo says softly. He slowly kneels down between Jesse’s boots, his hands still on his cheeks, feeling how clammy his skin is. “Can you hear me?”

Jesse nods slowly, though the bone tired look does not leave him. Hanzo quietly stares at him, wishing to convey something that he is too inadequate to put into words – but he has to admit that that is the coward’s way out.

“Anata. Jesse.” He kneels up and pulls Jesse’s head down so he can press a kiss against the top of his head into the middle of his dirty hair. “I am sorry.”

He slowly lets go of Jesse for a moment, to start the water and place the biotic emitter relatively close by. The warm, prickling light eases some of the tension in his muscles. He can hear a faint sigh coming from Jesse.

His fingers move slow and methodical this time as he peels the cowboy out of his clothes; there’s none of the rough ripping and destruction from before. He will have to get him new pants; the fastenings of these are beyond repair.

Jesse does not seem to mind any of this; Hanzo wonders if he feels that it is over now… that Hanzo only means to comfort this time around. Glancing into Jesse’s face again as he pulls him onto his feet and urges him towards the bathtub, he feels like he can see some kind of… finality in his expression. Tranquility.

He grunts softly when the heat of the water engulfs his body, then leans back with a bone deep sigh, head against the folded towel Hanzo has placed there, eyes closing with a finality that should be beautiful but makes Hanzo feel a bit queasy.

He quietly kneels next to him, eyes travelling over Jesse’s body; big and hairy and sturdy but so… vulnerable. There’s a bit of pink in the water where the blood is washed away from his ruined hole. Hanzo swallows hard, then reaches over to the biotic emitter and tugs it a bit closer. The tear had not been the worse but he’d prefer if it were healed as soon as possible.

“Jesse… are you still with me?” he asks softly when he has turned back to the other. He reaches out, bracing his elbow against the porcelain rim and spearing his fingers through Jesse’s dirty hair. After an affirmative deep hum he continues: “May I wash you?”

“If you hafta,” Jesse slurs. It’s barely intelligible.

Hanzo drags his thumb against Jesse’s temple; the nasty swollen bruise at his forehead has almost vanished now thanks to the biotic field bathing him.

“I do have to. But first… A question.”

Jesse’s bushy brows twitch in disapproval. He does not open his eyes, though, apparently determined to try and relax despite Hanzo’s insistence to talk.

Hanzo has to somewhat gather himself, his thumb remaining a slow pendulum against Jesse’s temple.

“Has it had the desired effect?” he asks eventually, reaching over and grabbing one of the washcloths he had brought with himself to wet it in the water and squeeze it out over Jesse’s chest to get the hairy pectorals wet as well.

Jesse doesn’t answer for so long that Hanzo thinks he must have fallen asleep after all.

“Not sure yet. Gonna figure it out later.”

Hanzo pulls a face but there’s no use arguing it. He begins to wash Jesse slowly, wiping the dirt from the floor he fucked him on and the sweat off of his body. He changes the water halfway through. He shushes Jesse’s grunt of protest with a low hum. When the water is changed he starts on washing his hair.

Part of him… that dark part that had thoroughly enjoyed holding Jesse down and driving into his body with relentless force… it wants to reach between Jesse’s legs and rub against his hole. See how far the biotic emitter has worked, and whether he can still make Jesse hurt a bit.

“Jesse…”

Jesse grunts, eyes flying open. He’s obviously been taken by surprise that Hanzo would suddenly speak – but so is Hanzo. He flushes dully, put on the spot by himself before he just… relaxes and lets things come as they want.

“I am sorry. But… I am also not sorry.”

He quietly raises a water filled bowl and gently upends it over Jesse’s head, making sure to not have the hot water slosh over his face.

“I am sorry for the pain I caused you tonight. Though… you know that that also isn’t quite the truth.”

He bites the tip of his tongue and can’t make himself look at those gentle brown eyes, knowing that Jesse has figured him out to a degree he is absolutely not comfortable with.

“I am not sorry because I hope it will, in time, bring you the… closure you desired. I miss you. We all miss you. Dearly.”

He starts to rub shampoo into Jesse’s hair. As he chances a glance, Jesse’s eyes are closed again, thankfully. His face looks… relaxed, and he slides deeper into the hot water.

“I think…” Jesse drawls unexpectedly, his deep voice reverberating in the small bathroom in a way that has Hanzo nearly sit up at attention, breath hitching.

He’d never willingly admit how Jesse’s voice sometimes makes him think of _father_.

“... I like this kind of attention.”

Hanzo exhales long through his nose, thumb rubbing over Jesse’s forehead now that the bruise there has vanished for good.

“I will give you this kind of attention for as long as you desire, anata.”

Jesse’s wide mouth twitches, looking impossibly sensual in that moment.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank ya kindly.”


	12. Gust/Builder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gust/Builder – non binary ace Builder; cbt; bondage; ruined orgasm – Gust needs some one-on-one time.
> 
> Prequel: B36F4

“Are you excited to meet up with our playmates on Friday?” Builder asks over a steak they’re sawing into. Them and Gust are having a nice little lunch date in Django’s restaurant between farm work and architectural duties.

When Gust doesn’t answer, they look up to see him nudging his potatoes a bit listless. Builder frowns.

“Hey… what’s up?” they lightly nudge him with their foot beneath the table. Gust startles and looks up, but can only manage to stare at them for a second before he looks down again.

“Nothing,” he starts, then quickly amends: “It’s just…” He squirms and looks around. There is only a few tourists around that pay them no mind. Django is in the kitchen cooking, and Sonia is outside, cleaning the space in front of the restaurant.

Still, he leans over in such a conspiratory way that Builder can’t help but lean in as well, tilting their head and listening to Gust whisper: “I want to play alone again…”

Builder’s brows shoot up. They don’t pull back but they turn so they can look at Gust who has hectic spots of color on his cheeks now, his hands in his lap, probably grabbing at his very expensive, very clean slacks with a white knuckled grip.

“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it,” Gust continues after a beat of silence when he feels like he has to explain. “It’s just that… I would enjoy…”

Builder nods slowly. They had thought that Gust might be a bit… overwhelmed with the whole thing. It had happened quickly, after all, and he is a very private, proud man. To be made into Sonia’s boy with little to no warning had shook him.

“Hey. Don’t worry about it. Sonia won’t mind if we scale things back. I told her that you’re not an exhibitionist slut like Albert. Not in that way at least. We can pull things way back.”

Gust has flushed a spectacular shade of red when Builder casually insulted Albert, but the tension that had pulled through his body like a steel cord is dissipating even so. He looks up at them between strands of hair that had come loose from his braid and nods slowly.

“Thank you,” he mutters but Builder just waves it away.

“Not for that. You’re not my prisoner or slave. I want you to have fun. I only have fun if _you_ have fun.”

They nod like it’s final and stand up to go out and tell Sonia their plans have changed. When they come back they are looking relaxed as ever. Gust looks nervously out of the window and sees Sonia peering in. When she sees she has his attention, she smiles and waves.

No bad feelings. He relaxes considerably.

“So? Do you still want to play solo or should we just have a nice and quiet date night, then?” Builder asks casually after a few more minutes of them eating.

Gust pauses, staring at his salad, then murmurs: “Could you… uhm.” He inhales deeply, then says in a whispered rush: “Can you bind me? Like… all of me?”

Builder smiles at him bright and happy.

“Of course! Anything you want!”

.o.

Gust had wanted exactly _this_ , but having it now and being on the receiving end of Builder’s undivided attention, he feels like he is about to crawl out of his own skin. Builder has him… what had they called it? Frog tied.

He’s wanted so badly to get bound in all those pretty robes that Builder always seemed to just… _have_ (it didn’t occur to him that they were producing them themselves), but now that he’s lost the ability to move his legs or arms freely, he realizes just what kind of feeling of claustrophobia goes hand in hand with it.

He is helpless.

He can’t free himself even if he wants to. He is completely and utterly dependent on Builder who has dragged a chair in front of him so they can more easily nudge at his cock and balls with their naked foot.

They haven’t even undressed for his viewing pleasure. It is quite… it is quite unfair.

“Hmmm… you look scared. But you’re also hard,” Builder muses. They are slightly squinting, obviously wondering about what to do with a… a dirty boy. Like Gust.

Gust turns his head away and closes his eyes – but only for a second as he realizes that darkness makes the claustrophobia that much worse.

“You’re tense all over… wow.”

Builder is right, of course. Gust had even noticed how he was clenching every muscle in his body, waiting nervously for what was to come. He yearned for it just as much as he dreaded it.

When the pain comes, it is not as sharp as it usually is. Since builder is not wearing a boot, they can put a lot more pressure on Gust’s cock before it really becomes uncomfortable.

He curls his hands into tight fists behind his back, not daring to look as his dick slowly but surely gets crushed against the floor, and his balls along with it; awkwardly trapped underneath as they are.

Builder is testing the waters; watching his reaction. Putting more pressure down on their foot. They shift it every now and then and watch his face as they first dig their heel against the swollen tip, slowly but surely crushing it against the hardwood floor (uncomfortable but strangely doable) – and then change it up for their toes, clipped nails slightly biting into the silky, sensitive skin of his shaft and tip (painful painful _painful_ oh Peach-).

When they pull their foot away, Gust is letting out his bated breath, panting and staring at the way his cock bounces up from the floor, a bright red; bruised and aching looking but obviously eager for more.

“Well that is fun,” Builder murmurs. They stand now and put their hands on Gust’s shoulders, bracing themselves. They come so close that Gust thinks they just want to kiss. Instead they smile at him as they swing their leg back and then suddenly, without warning, kick him in the balls.

His whole body lights up. Tears spring to his eyes, breath halting in his lungs, and nausea pooling low in his belly. Builder has kicked him before, of course, crushing his sac with the top of their knee because they enjoy the sight of him crumpling down and holding his junk.

He doesn’t know why this is somehow worse. Maybe because he is trussed up and just has to take it without being able to at least dance and wiggle around. Maybe it’s just his brain playing tricks on him.

Gust stares up at them, eyes wide and itching with tears, and Builder just smiles back patiently – and kicks him again. And again. Two hard kicks in quick succession that have Gust cry out and awkwardly jerk as he instinctively wants to rip his arms forward and clutch at Builder.

There’s static filling his head, and nausea, pain and excitement filling his body.

Builder grabs his hair tight and pulls his head back to look down into his face as they slowly push his cock with their foot until it lies flat down once more.

They crush it slowly underneath their heel, watching as red spots start appearing on Gust’s cheeks, his pretty blue eyes big and empty. Mouth slack.

It’s the weirdest kind of orgasm ripping through Gust. He doesn’t know he’s coming until it’s almost halfway done. It’s slow and… painful – cum pulsing out of him like lava and pooling on the floor in a hot little puddle while the usual instant gratification is completely missing.

Builder smiles at him slowly, still holding him pulled tight like a bow string.

“Wow… being tied up like that really does it for you, huh? I like it. A lot. You’re so helpless, it’s cute.”

Gust whines all reedy and high-pitched.


	13. Torbjörn/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torbjörn/Soldier76 – rimming; stink/sweat kink; hair kink – Right what it says on the tin :) no cheating involved in this fic :)

While Jack has aged approximately a hundred years and got just older and more wrinkly and more bitter, he has to admit that Torbjörn has stayed the exact same… other than his beard growing to biblical length.

Jack watches him from behind his visor where it is safe and he can’t be put on the spot for it. He pretends like he’s just standing there bored and waiting for the mechanic to fix his rifle, but the truth is that he could be doing literally anything else on base and just wait for Torbjörn to call him back up.

His old friend has changed his claw arm into a sleek cybernetic version so he can work on the delicate machinery inside the rifle – and the longer Jack watches the metal fingers delicately move, the more he wonders whether Torb could keep from just crushing the edge of the work table in them if he were getting spread out over it and had Jack between his strong, stocky thighs.

He shifts a little, relocating his weight and trying to keep the bulge of his cock as hidden as possible. Torbjörn has started to screw something off, and the way his bicep moves, the thick muscle jiggling, has Jack’s mouth run dry.

It’s been way too long since he fucked someone. Being on the run he hadn’t been able to afford the distractions. Getting presented with Torbjörn and his thick muscles and wiry hair _now_ was putting a match to some dry leaves.

He stays put for about five minutes longer until the sweat begins to pearl on Torbjörn’s forehead and he lifts his arm to wipe it away, showing off a thick tuft of hair in his pit. Jack groans softly and stalks forward, reaching up to take his visor off in the process.

Torbjörn turns when he hears the sound, one good eye squinting shrewdly at the advancing soldier. Jack has no idea what his expression might be, but he seems to look like enough of a deranged pervert that Torbjörn turns away from the rifle and puts his hands up against his shoulders in obvious surrender.

“Easy now,” he growls, head tilting back so he can look up at Jack. “Ya look like an unfixed dog, Jack.”

He feels like one, too. He is slowly dragging his tongue over his teeth as he goes through his options and eventually just grabs Torbjörn’s neck and roughly maneuvers him just a few steps to the side. Everything in Torbjörn’s shop is made with his height in mind, of course, but Jack doesn’t really mind too much. He’d be on the floor either way.

“I got a shitton of work to do!” Torb complains but he leans forward with a soft grunt when Jack pushes him. “Still got no respect for work ethic, I see. Didn’t change a wink in all those years, Jack. Go on, then. But let me text Ingrid, goddamnit.”

He keeps muttering and cursing, but Jack doesn’t really mind. He’s pathetically glad that their… arrangement from so many decades ago still seems to stand. His knees hit the floor with a heavy thud that rattles through his body and reminds him yet again that he isn’t as young anymore as he used to be.

“Been workin fer a bit,” Torb suddenly calls back. He sounds apologetic… maybe a bit sheepish, even.

Jack grabs his stocks thighs, digging his fingers into the rock hard muscle he can feel underneath, and leans in to press his face into Torbjörn’s ass crack. He inhales deeply. Even through the heavy fabric of the work pants the scent of sweat is thick on his palate. His balls throb, hole clenching. He wishes suddenly that he had a dildo to drill into himself while he worked Torbjörn over.

“I don’t mind,” he groans, digging his face in so hard that Torbjörn grunts and has to shuffle his feet a bit apart.

“I can tell,” the engineer grumbles. Jack can’t figure out if he’s actually annoyed or if it is just Torbjörn being Torbjörn. Either way, it gets him even hotter.

He fumbles to open Torbjörn’s workpants while he can hear him muttering to himself as he types out a message to his wife.

Jack is not concerned that Ingrid would tell them to cut it out – as far as he knows she’s more of a pervert than the two of them combined.

He drags the pants down and grabs a hold of the hirsute cheeks to spread them wide. He can’t get over how sturdy Torbjörn is; how, despite his size, there is always just more _meat_ and _muscle_ to grab and knead.

The crack is covered in hair just like the rest of his body. Jack falls in face first, burying his nose deep and pulling up a groan right up from his toes. He probably sounds like a dying engine, but he can’t care when his senses are filled with sweaty, hairy ass.

He can hear Torbjörn rumble something but he can’t make out individual words. It doesn’t matter. He kisses Torbjörn’s hole hello and is rewarded with the feeling of muscles all around his head twitching.

Torbjörn shuffles his feet a bit farther apart still until his pants don’t allow him any more. Against his chin Jack can feel the heavy drape of the fat breeder balls. Today he is not interested in them or the stocky beercan cock the engineer has to offer, though. Today he focuses solely on the hole with the pouty rim. The one that he knows Ingrid is probably fucking with her strap-on a lot more than Torbjörn is actually getting to cram his massive cock into her snatch.

He begins to lick slowly, enjoying every second of the sensation. The salty tang of sweat explodes on his tongue, his cock a fat line down one leg of his pants, slowly dripping against his skin.

He doesn’t know what the engineer is doing; he could just as well still be texting with his wife, telling her how the once golden boy of Overwatch is nose deep in his crack and trying his best to wriggle his tongue into the clench of his ass.

Jack doesn’t care. He really doesn’t. All he cares about is that he is getting Torb’s backdoor wet enough to try and wriggle a finger into him. He presses wet, suckling kisses right over the muscle and leaves it even more swollen and slightly protruding when he pulls back for a moment to look at his work.

He can just about see the tip of Torbjörn’s cock, foreskin still half wrapped around it, dripping steadily onto the dusty floor.

He pushes back in, this time making sure to drill his tongue into him, forcing the loosened up muscles to accept the intrusion.

Torbjörn groans chest deep. He can feel it vibrate throughout his body and into his tongue.

Jack reaches between his thighs, tapping against his hole. The sensation is regrettably muted by his pants still stubbornly in place, but it is at least enough to keep him sane as he tongue fucks his old friend until he starts to cum in thick stripes onto the floor, his balls jerking and pulsing against Jack’s chin.

God fucking damn it, he had needed this badly.


End file.
